


Hope will Endure

by Mozart_the_Meerkitten



Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, So much angst, Sort Of, Suicide mention, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozart_the_Meerkitten/pseuds/Mozart_the_Meerkitten
Summary: Estel learns that he is really Aragorn, king of Gondor. Maglor decides that it is time to reveal his own history as well... (Takes place not long before "Hope will Return")
Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583329
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Hope will Endure

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, this is a big one. I even upped the rating because, ah, yeah, unpleasant things discussed here. Nothing really disturbing, just angst, a lot of angst. So, enjoy, I guess?

“Káno!”

Maglor looked up from his book, blinking as Estel burst through the door of his house. The boy skidded to a halt, eyes wide and wild, breathing like he’d run the whole way through the forest.

“Estel? Is something wrong?” he asked quickly.  
“No! Well, I don’t know, but you’ll never believe what Elrond just told me!”  
The boy- though he really wasn’t a boy anymore, he was twenty… today, Maglor realized, it was his birthday- sat down at the table across from him, grinning.

“I’m the heir of Isildur! My real name is Aragorn! I’m a king, Káno!”  
The boy was practically bursting with excitement, and Maglor couldn’t help but grin back at him. “So Elrond finally told you, did he?”  
Estel deflated a little. “You mean you knew?!”  
“Well, yes,” Maglor shrugged. “I’ve known since the day I met you.”  
Estel’s mouth hung open. “You have? How?!”  
“You said you were a descendant of Elros,” said Maglor. “That is a royal line. How Elrond managed to keep that a secret from you for so long I’ll never know.”  
The boy grinned again. “Yeah, one of my teachers let that slip one time when I was pestering them. But I thought I was just… you know, a Numenorean, not, not the _king_ ,” he suddenly looked worried. “Do you think I’ll be a good king, Káno?”  
Maglor looked him in the eyes. “I think you will be one of the best kings to ever rule Arda,” he said seriously. “You are brave and you are kind; you do what is right even when it is not easy, and you are incredibly persistent and determined to do good. You will be an _extraordinary_ king, Estel.”  
Estel looked relieved. “Alright, that’s good, that’s what mama and Elrond said too. I knew if you all agreed on it then it must be true, because you three are the best and wisest and most trustworthy people I know.”

Then it was Maglor’s turn to be surprised. All at once a shaft of guilt pierced his heart. He had never been completely truthful with the boy, ever, and now… now he was someone Estel trusted more than anyone in Imlardis save for his own mother and Elrond, who had been like a father to the boy. All this time, the boy’s best friend (Estel had often told Maglor that he was his best friend) had been a traitor, a _kinslayer_ , and the boy knew nothing of it, because Maglor had been too much of a coward to tell him.

“Estel,” said Maglor, his throat suddenly tight. “Estel, there is something I should tell you. Since Elrond has revealed your true identity, I suppose, I suppose it is time to put an end to secrets.”  
Estel frowned. “What do you mean, Káno?”  
Maglor stared down at his hands. He knew if he looked at the boy’s face, at his bright eyes that were always filled with such love and happiness… he would never be able to explain.  
“My name is not… my name is not Káno,” he said, finally. “I mean, it is, but it is not the name you would know me by. I have, I have kept it from you for all these years,” he blinked, fighting back tears. “I was afraid… the name you would know me by is Maglor Feanorian.”

There was silence for several long moments, during which Maglor was not sure he breathed, and when he dared not look up to see Estel’s reaction.

“Maglor Feanorian,” Estel said slowly, finally. “You mean from the old tales of the First Age? You were,” he paused. “Your father made the Silmarils, right? Feanor?”  
Maglor swallowed. “Yes.”  
“Okay, so, what does that mean?” asked Estel. “Why were you afraid to tell me that?”  
Maglor squeezed his eyes shut and tears slid down his face as he did. Elrond had never told the boy. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse, because that meant, that meant….

“You do not know the history of the Silmarils?” he asked finally.  
“I know part of it,” said Estel. “I know the Lay of Lethian, and how Morgoth stole the Silmarils from Aman and destroyed the Two Trees.”  
“Oh Eru,” Maglor whispered, covering his face with his hands. “Did you never learn more than that?”  
“No, but, Káno, what-”

“ _That is not my name!_ ” shouted Maglor, slamming his hands against the table, and suddenly staring desperately at Estel’s face (but not his eyes, he couldn’t bear to do that). “My name is Maglor Feanorian, traitor, oath-taker, kinslayer. My father led us from Aman and began the horrible deeds that followed, but I was complicit in all of them. The kinslaying at Alqualondë, the burning of the Swan Ships, the massacres in Doraith and at the Havens-” his voice broke and tears streamed down his face. “Did Elrond never tell you that my brother and I found him and Elros after we slaughtered their people? That we raised them out of pity and pain for what we had done, that we could not even do that properly and sent them away? That when we finally found the cursed jewels we had sought so long for that they would not even bear our touch after the horrors we had caused and they burned us so badly that we could not bear it and Maedhros cast himself into the fire to escape it and I threw my Silmaril into the sea and-” he sobbed, and covered his face again, curling in on himself, trying to stop the shaking that had taken hold of him.

There was silence for a long time after Maglor finished speaking. He could not bring himself to look at Estel, or indeed, even to stop sobbing like a child. 

Finally, he heard Estel push his chair back and stand and his heart tightened. He shuddered involuntarily and waited- for what he wasn’t sure. Estel’s righteous anger and fury, or, even worse, the boy simply leaving him without a word.

He heard the boy move and felt Estel come to stand over him. He tensed and waited, his breath coming in weak, shaky gasps.

And then Estel bent down and wrapped his arms around the elf’s shaking form.

Maglor froze. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, it felt as though even his heart had stopped.  
Then, all at once panic overwhelmed him and he tried desperately to break free of the boy’s embrace. “Estel, _no_ , you cannot, you do not understand-”  
The boy pulled back and looked at him. “No, Káno, I do understand,” he said, quietly. “And I do not care. What you did happened so long ago that Men no longer remember it, and the elves barely speak of it even in song. You have changed so much since then that I cannot even imagine you doing all those things you spoke of, but I know that when you did it must have felt right, even if it was not. Because you are _good_ , Káno, you are so, so good. You took me on adventures when I was a child and you looked after me. You taught me about the forest and hunting and sang me strange songs and you told me stories. You made me laugh when I was sad and comforted me when I was afraid. You have been more than a friend to me all these years and I cannot judge you for the person you were long before I was born. I can only judge you from what I know of you now. I… I was afraid that I would not be a good king because of things that happened a long time ago,” he said. “Things that Isildur did, back when my people were still new come to Middle Earth. But if I cannot be judged for what my forefathers have done then I will not hold against you the deeds you did long ago. I do not condone them, but,” he pressed his forehead against Maglor’s and shut his eyes. “I love you, Káno. You are my best friend, and that will never change, no matter what you’ve done.”

Maglor pulled his head back and finally gazed up at Estel’s face. The boy opened his eyes and smiled sadly at him and there… Maglor could truly only see love and acceptance in the boy’s face.  
He gave a strangled sob and covered his face once more. Gently, Estel pulled his hands down and wrapped his arms around his friend again. Too exhausted and relieved to resist any longer, Maglor pressed his face into Estel’s shoulder and weakly held onto fistfuls of the boy’s shirt.

“Are you certain of this, Estel?” he asked finally, voice quavering.  
He could hear the smile in the boy’s voice when he replied. “Absolutely, Káno. Absolutely. You will always be my friend.”  
“Always?” whispered Maglor. “Even when you know the whole of my tale?”  
Estel gave a watery chuckle. “ _Always_ , Káno.”  
Maglor squeezed his arms more tightly around the boy.

“ _Thank you._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it, folks, Estel truly is too good for this world, too pure. 
> 
> This is still not the end of this series! I can't promise they will all be in order from this point on, but the rest of the ideas I have involve adult Aragorn. At some point I'll put all these stories in chronological order.
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments! It warms my heart that you all love this series as much as I do!


End file.
